


Dudley Do-Right of the Circus

by songquake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songquake/pseuds/songquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dudley Dursley was not as <i>queerly</i> normal as his parents. But for all the oddities of his life now, he was normal enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dudley Do-Right of the Circus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragdoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll/gifts).



> Written as part of the Dudley_Redeemed 2010 fest on LJ, to a prompt by Ragdoll.
> 
> Is it plot with crack, or crack with plot? In any event, it's Something Else. This is a slasher's first foray into explicit het, though really, the het is just a plot device to let us get a pregnancy among non-magical folk. If Muggles had mpreg, I'd have been all over it!
> 
>  **Warning(s):** male-POV het written by a lesbian (and, er, rather more than I'd planned, actually!), passing crack addiction, over-attachment to horses, oblique references to American popular culture (including cartoons of the 1960's), angst. No slash, no BDSM (sorry!).
> 
>  **Disclaimers:** _Harry Potter_ and all associated characters and settings remain the intellectual property of JK Rowling and her associates. We are very grateful for permission to play with them.  
>  Other credits to:  
> ♥ _The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle_ , particularly the "Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties" shorts. Property (so far as I can tell) of Jay Ward Productions.  
> ♥ _Mister Rogers' Neighborhood_ , property of Fred Rogers' estate and Family Communications, Inc.  
> ♥ _The American President_ , created by Aaron Sorkin  
> ♥ Finally, I know very little about horses, or about joining the circus. Most of what I've written on those topics is pure fancy.

Dudley Dursley wasn't as queerly normal as his parents. He _wasn't_. He made the effort to be _just_ different enough to be interesting. He liked to go to the cinema to see art films, though he wouldn't tell his parents of his precise interests; the thought of the scolding he'd get for his interest in something with a name like magical realism was incentive to say he was just going to see a film. Being interested in 'films' was toeing the line as it was. But it set him apart just that much more from the lads he'd come up with. And he had not only boxed at Smeltings, but mentored weakling firsties so they could box, too.

Not that any of it mattered much to his mum and dad; they were unsurprised that he had decided against Uni, thinking he'd take over the Gunnings Drill Bits franchise. But it mattered to _him_. 

Lacking a better idea, though, Dudley went straight to his father's business after leaving school. Sadly, he had never been taught to be obsequious (indeed, his bulk and carriage were more frightening than inviting, even to those types who would _buy_ drill bits) and was therefore an abject failure on the sales floor. 

Much to his relief. Dudley feared that, should he spend too much time working at that, his face would retain the screwed-up look his father's did. 

It wasn't that Dudley didn't _respect_ his father – he did, of course, in that filial obligation sort of way. He simply had no interest in drill bits, sales, or kowtowing to obnoxious clients. He found it hard to get through a day at Dad's Drill Bits without wanting to knock someone out. 

Unfortunately, Vernon thought 'bodyguard' and 'bouncer' lacked the appropriate level of class for the son of a business owner, even if said business had _needed_ that sort of employee. 

Having no suitable employment for his son, Vernon Dursley sent Dudley off to seek his fortune.

*♥*

Dudley had finally declined Malcolm's invitation to join some of the old gang in their 'auto salvage and repair' business. He had been particularly disinterested in nicking small supplies and pieces of machinery from his dad, but wasn't terribly keen on 'salvaging' autos from their rightful owners, either. Nothing actually in their part of Surrey seemed appealing, either, so Dudley left Little Whinging. He headed to Brighton, much less dull and clear across the next county.

Vernon looked ready to pop a vessel. 

He'd been doing that whenever anyone annoyed him for years, though, and there really was nothing for it. Dudley wasn't as stupid as everyone thought. He couldn't see himself finding success or happiness in his parents' town, and not just because his parents were there, either. No, Little Whinging was no place for a young and interesting man. 

Brighton it was, then. 

Dudley knew his strengths. Mostly they were in his quads and biceps. But whilst at Smeltings, Coach had taken care of him. Coach had a habit of pairing men in fifth form and higher with younger, novice boxers, and Dudley had discovered a well of patience nobody, including himself, had expected. Plus, having to spot scrawny little St Martin improved Dudley's agility. 

Yeah. Coach knew what he was about. 

By the time Dudley left Smeltings, he had won an award for 'Distinguished Service to the Boxing Squad' and an effusive letter of recommendation from Coach Mathews for any position in the fields of physical training and mentoring. So in Brighton, he spent nine months out of the year coaching middle-aged ladies in cardio and strength training, using his own story of 'going from stout to strong' to motivate them. 

He was rather popular amongst said middle-aged ladies. He was also popular amongst a certain number of small, buff men, though why the men needed his help, he couldn't say. 

But in summers, lessons dropped off. They dropped off rather a lot, actually. Dudley's clients went on holiday, showing off the results of their work and renewing their flab. This _was_ disappointing, of course, but it was also how his gym managed to have work for him in the rest of the year. 

So the second spring he lived in Brighton, Dudley answered an advert for a 'strong man.' He was a strong man, after all. 

That was how Dudley Dursley joined the circus.

*♥*

The young woman was from the States, and uncommonly friendly.

"Hi there, Cowboy. I'm Nell Fenwick. Who are you?" She spoke slowly yet casually, as though her words had no particular place to be, but just strolled around, taking in the scenery. 

"Dudley," Dudley said stupidly. He always felt stupid around girls, despite the fact that women made up the majority of his training clients. _That's the trouble with Smeltings,_ he thought. _Never did get to learn how to act 'round birds younger than my mum._ He suspected that spending all his time at the gym rather than socializing after lessons, and watching videos of old movies when he wasn't busy training, didn't help the cause much, either. One didn't get to talk to birds, after all, if one couldn't be fussed to be _around_ them. 

Nell made it pretty easy, though. She liked to talk. A lot. She chattered away as fast as her 'Kentucky drawl' would let her. She tended to take longer than Dudley expected at many other things, too. 

"Thing is," she said, "I'm from the South. We don't walk." She winked at Dudley's confused expression. "We _mosey_." 

"I could get used to _moseying_ with you," Dudley mumbled. 

"Speak up, Dud! Talk like ya mean it!" Nell said. 

Dudley's face burned; every instinct was telling him to run. _A Real Man wouldn't let embarrassment or shyness keep him from getting the girl._ "I, er, only said I could get used to moseying with you." 

"Aw, that's real sweet, Dudley." 

They started running together mornings. Nell was pretty fast for a girl.

*♥*

Nell trained show ponies for the circus. "I grew up on a horse ranch," she said. "Never had my own horse, though. My daddy was a groomer for one of them rich breeders, an' he got me a job exercising the horses when their trainers were busy. Which was most of the time." She snorted derisively. "I don't know how a person could work with these animals if they didn't love 'em enough to be hands-on with the care. Then again, I don't reckon you could love a horse and break him as a racer."

"You never wanted to race, then?" 

"Oh, I _love_ the feel of a horse between my legs, running at a full gallop, sensitive to my every movement. But no, no competitive riding for me. Not only are racing owners and trainers hard on the horses, the races themselves are brutal, and the ponies are never happy." 

"How do you know?" asked Dudley, genuinely curious. 

Nell rolled her eyes. "You just _do_." She gave the horse she was brushing a scratch between the ears and nuzzled its nose. "The lives of the circus ponies aren't real happy, either, but at least I can try to make it as nice as possible for 'em. An' I don't need to sew up their pee holes."

*♥*

The circus set up every summer outside of Brighton, where Dudley had settled down, playing "trainer" to housewives, gym bunnies and amateur boxers at a local fitness club. Smeltings _had_ taught him two things: how to motivate phys ed students and how to deflect twinks' advances without landing in the principals' office.

But the first winter after spending the summer at the circus was tediously long and boring, and Dudley couldn't wait to get back.

At the circus, a lot of Dudley's job was standing around in a humiliatingly small set of red pants, sometimes even with a brown loincloth, and flex his muscles. Outside the gates to the circus, he would dare people waiting to enter the tent to try feats such as lifting his 50kg barbell or going head-to-head with him in a bell-ringing contest or in arm-wrestling.

He also got to toss out any troublemakers. This, admittedly, was his favourite part. 

"You ever think 'bout wrasslin' bears?" Nell asked one day over thick meat sandwiches after watching Dudley physically remove two young hooligans from the property. "Back in the States, at least back before cable television made bear wrasslin' look both simple and stupid, you totally would be doing that by now." 

"Humph," Dudley snorted. "Mostly sounds stupid to me." 

Nell laughed a sort of laugh Dudley had hardly ever heard in Little Whinging. "Yeah, I reckon it _is_ kinda dumb, but it's not _real_ wrasslin'. It's teaching them a routine of play, more like. Talk to ol' Boris. Tamin' bears can't be much harder than tamin' Siberian tigers." 

Dudley "hmmed" at that. He could probably earn more money "wrasslin' bears," as Nell liked to say. Only animals had never captured his fancy. He wasn't sure whether it was that boa Cousin Harry'd somehow sicced on him, Aunt Marge's ill-tempered dogs, or the crazy way Mrs Figg's favourite tabby – the one that looked to be wearing glasses – looked meanly at him when Mrs Figg carried it like a baby during her 'afternoon constitutional' that had put him off, but something had. 

"Nah," he said, "animals never liked me. They always looked at me funny."

"Maybe they're sizing you up," Nell responded. "If you're nice to 'em, they warm right up, most animals. If they're pets and they're mean, it's cos of their owners."

Dudley paused. Maybe it wasn't the animals that were so discomfiting but the people who had an _affinity_ for animals who were.

Nell was pretty alright, though. And she did seem to be having a good time when she was riding those horses of hers. 

And sometimes – just sometimes – she convinced him to ride, too.

*♥*

Nell was a ginger who wore her hair in two plaits except for when she was performing. Then, she did something Dudley couldn't comprehend to her plaits that made them look like a wreath of spun copper around her head.

Dudley'd always liked copper, how it conducted electricity, how it shone, how it turned green when it got old. 

He said that to Nell one day, and she let out peal after peal of laughter.

"Well, Dudley," she gasped, "you can be sure that my hair won't oxidise. But maybe when I'm old and grey, I'll decide to dye it green."

"No!" blurted Dudley. "Blue. Bright blue. To match your eyes." He blushed, hardly believing he had an _opinion_ on something so weird, so… ridiculous. 

Nell giggled some more and threw an arm around Dudley's shoulder. Then she kissed him with her salty-soft lips, running her fingers up Dudley's own gritty face, tracing his stubble tenderly. 

Dudley's world exploded.

*♥*

Nell thought 'shacking up' on a more-or-less permanent basis would be fine. It wasn't. It turned out that Dudley was a romantic.

(He did _not_ want to think of himself as being as traditional or as self-conscious as his mum and dad.)

The week after they moved into a new flat, all painted yellow with blue-and-white curtains, a wood kitchen table, a living room, and no telly in the bedroom (Dudley would have to introduce sweet Nell to the beauty of pornographic videos), Dudley put a ring on Nell's finger. 

They married a month later, with Boris the Tiger-Tamer and Wendy Whiplash the Trapeze Artist the only witnesses other than the registrar. Nell's dad couldn't make it in from the States on such short notice, and the less said about Vernon and Petunia, the better. Dudley hadn't spoken to his parents since his dad had berated him at length for joining the circus – Petunia hadn't even followed Dudley up the stairs when he went to retrieve the very last of his belongings. 

Dudley bought a new suit for the wedding. Nell wore a little white sundress and the spangled white cowgirl boots she favoured for her acts. 

It was perfect.

Their honeymoon took place in the shadows of the Big Top, underneath the bleachers, in the makeshift stable, and in the bright kitchen of their flat.

*♥*

They shagged like bunnies. Nell was particularly adventurous – she loved the bounce of the trapeze artists' practice nets, she loved the dark of the tent, and she _loved_ climbing onto Dudley's cock in the shower.

-Dudley didn't mind those things, either. 

In fact, Dudley thought early one October morning as he pressed sleepily into Nell's backbone, he was fully enjoying his sexual awakening. The circus season had ended without Dudley's having wrestled any bears, and both of them were back to their off-season jobs: Dudley the personal trainer to housewives and twinks, Nell as all-around staff at a livery near Hurstpierpoint in West Sussex. Their jobs kept them in fantastic shape for their admittedly athletic love life. 

Dudley ran his fingers along the underside of Nell's cute potbelly, loving the softness of her skin, her flesh, right there; it was such a contrast to her wiry arms and powerful thighs that he always felt tender and protective when he got to touch it. Nell made what Dudley could recognise as a happy snuffle and caught his hand. She brought it up to her lips and kissed the backs of his fingers; she took two into her mouth, sucking and nipping at them so that he pressed closer, arching to slide his cock into the cleft of her arse.

Nell turned her head to kiss him, and Dudley gladly obliged. Having let her lips abandon his hand, Nell brought the wet fingertips down to her breasts. 

God, her breasts. He'd only abstractly appreciated tits before he'd had the chance to _touch_ them. And Nell was the only lady to have allowed him such access. 

They were small, at least compared to the ones on the women in those skin mags the other blokes snuck into the Smeltings dormitory. Well, yes, and the ones _he_ had smuggled in as well. Nell's were small and firm, as if her skin had been stretched over two small peaches on her chest. That skin was smooth, too; smoother and softer than any Dudley had anymore, perhaps excepting the hairless insides of his elbows. 

Nell, however, had so many expanses of soft, hairless skin: behind her ears, down her back, her upper arms. Her cheeks, both sets. Dudley remembered how their first time, he had almost expected the parts of her that were covered in public to resemble his own – colouring, furriness, and all. It was as though he'd assumed that anything that looked different was masked to look that way; that different looks were like clothes to put on or off. 

Dudley loved the smoothness, but he also loved the surprise – always a surprise – of his fingertips passing over one of the stray hairs on the edges of her areolas. When he felt them, he knew Nell was really with him, had really chosen him; he knew she wasn't just a dream. 

"All right there, Nell?" Dudley asked as he slowly rolled the nipple furthest from him between thumb and forefinger. He felt the skin tighten around her nip as it contracted, standing proud and red from the duskier skin around it.

Nell arched, impatiently, into his hand. "God _damn_ it, Dudley Dursley, you know how much I like that," she growled as she ground her arse hard against his cock. 

Dudley groaned before sinking his teeth into the juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of the benefits to having a cowgirl – excuse him, horse-trainer – for a wife was that her work uniform included a 'neckerchief'. Dudley therefore had free rein, so to speak, to mark her neck and shoulders as much as he liked during the off-season. During the on-season he had to be more careful. Which was not to say Nell didn't give as good as she got. Dudley would never admit it to anyone outside their circus troupe, but along with waxing his back and chest, he'd had to invest in sweat-proof concealer by the litre. 

He thought it might be easier, in the long run, just to get his torso and neck covered with tats. He hadn't the funds to do it yet, though; maybe next summer. 

His teeth released her neck as his hand released her breast. Dudley rolled back suddenly, letting Nell fall on her own back before moving quickly to her, grabbing her other nipple with his teeth and lips. She dug her fingers into his scalp and tugged at his hair, pulling his head further onto her tit until most of it was in his mouth. 

" _Fuck_ , you'd make a good cocksucker," she gasped, pushing his head even further down. Dudley _loved_ when Nell started talking about what he still thought of as Naughty Things. "Such a strong mouth, huge throat. Come on baby, suck me harder!" 

Talk like that made him want to swallow her whole. His jaw and throat opened as wide as he could make them, thinking of how good it felt when Nell swallowed his cock down her throat and trying to emulate it, maybe even surpass it. 'Cos, see, she'd taught him that her tits could take a lot more than cock once a mouth was past the inch or so at the tip. 

He was glad to have such a big mouth. 

Dudley tried to look up at his love, but since his mouth and nose were smashed against her breastbone, not much of her face was visible. 

Nell had started pumping her hips, grinding her minge against one of his thighs. Dudley let her do this for a minute or two, loving the reaction, loving her abandon, loving how her juices were trapped between her lips but filling the air with the scent of her anyway. Then he bore down with his body, pressing her small frame into the mattress (she moaned and gave him that look that said, 'I surrender, I'm yours' better than words ever could; for some reason, she loved being crushed beneath him) and slid up her body to take her mouth once more, carefully, slowly fucking it with his tongue. Her breasts were pulled toward her chin with the friction; his cock _finally_ bumped her crotch. He could feel her thighs pushing, trying to pry his own apart in their eagerness to fall open. 

By now, Dudley prided himself on knowing how to read his wife's body. He raised his hips, allowing her knees to fall apart and insinuating one of his legs between them. His cock, heretofore restrained by the weight of his gut above it, bounded forward, seeking the heat of Nell's cunt. He hissed as the tip met Nell's wetness. 

She hissed, too. "Come _on,_ Dudley!" she whined. 

Raising his head, he asked, "Are you ready to feel something different?" He'd been looking at porn on the World Wide Web, and this particular technique was one that looked extremely pleasurable for both the bloke and the girl. 

Nell pouted, but her eyes shone and the corner of her mouth twisted up. "Whatever it is, just get on with it," she said. 

Dudley leant back so he could see, really see, the place where they would join. He spread Nell's cunt lips apart so he could see her clitoris. Hm. The hood was swollen, that was good, but the clit itself was not standing out. Dudley grinned as he dipped two fingers into Nell's entrance and dragged up more juice so he could attend to that. 

Nell's breath caught, but she moaned, "You've diddled me before, Dudley!"

"Well," he retorted, "I wanted you to be ready for _this_." And with that, Dudley took his cock in hand and guided it until the head was brushing up against Nell's clit. 

Dudley smiled when Nell's hips jerked and she uttered a high-pitched "ooh!" In it, he heard joy and surprise, and an excitement that presaged a Very Enthusiastic Shag. He continued to manoeuvre his cockhead against her clit, pressing it closer, harder against her clit. He marvelled at the sensation of her sleek, wrinkly flesh, a berry clad in cling film, butting the spongy tip of his penis. It elicited shivers from _him_ , this action. 

Nell was up on her elbows, straining to kiss him, arching her back and hips to gain more contact. Her shoulders heaved with her breaths and twitches until she finally gave up, collapsing on the bed as her head thrashed back and forth. Dudley guided his cock downward so it rested between her slippery folds and slowly moved it back and forth, back and forth. 

Nell, being a trainer of beasts, had very much taught Dudley to be a considerate lover. 

"Oh, honey," she moaned when she'd stopped throwing her head and torso around, "that was fan-fucking-tastic! Mm, and you feel so good, just movin' like that… I could stay like this forever." 

Dudley furrowed his brow. This felt good and all, but it wasn't going to bring him off. He kept moving. Maybe if he sped up a bit…

"Oh, _sweetie_ ," Nell chided, looking at him with what he'd come to think of as the 'my husband's adorably dense' look. "you can go ahead and fuck me. You could've done it while I was coming – it would've felt wonderful! But I want that nice big sausage of yours inside me. Go on, honey, _bury_ it!" 

Contrary to what Nell might have assumed, Dudley didn't need an engraved invitation. As she'd started chattering, he'd pulled back and guided his cock to her hole (still flexing) so when she said 'bury it,' he thrust in. Hard. 

"Yeah, baby, fuck me _good_!" Nell shrieked. Her small hands dug into what would have been Dudley's waist had he never been fat, and slid down onto his hips. She grabbed his sides so tightly that Dudley felt his arse cheeks spreading. 

His cock had been as hard as an over-packed sports bag, and he felt it swelling even more. _Fuck, I'm going to come like a teenager,_ he thought, leaning down to fuck his wife's mouth with his tongue again. Except she wasn't having it, and as they struggled for domination of the kiss, Dudley felt one of Nell's hands move between them. Wanting to feel as much as possible, Dudley shoved his cock as far as he could up Nell's channel and began a rotating motion that kept his cock fully sheathed but still feeling that glorious friction. Nell, being helpful, tilted her hips back to allow as much depth as possible.

Dudley felt it building, this orgasm he'd staved off for so long in order to please his wife, it was a fire in his veins, rushing through so that his entire being felt the vibration of his desperate pleasure. His whole body stiffened and his hips moved of their own accord, pinning Nell down with her legs in the air and moving in and out as Nell clenched her internal muscles to squeeze the come out of him. 

Dudley felt his cock expand until it felt like it would burst, and then it did, semen spouting in little jerks out of his penis and onto his wife's cervix, which he'd been battering the past few minutes. 

Exhausted, he let Nell's legs fall down and apart again. He collapsed a little, resting his head on her breasts. 

"Oh no, you don't, Dursley," Nell broke into his reverie. "You're not that soft yet. I was about _this_ close from coming again and I intend to finish!" 

"Mm, okay," Dudley raised himself back on his elbows and kissed her as he began to rotate and thrust his hips again. Again, he tipped Nell's hips up; he knew he could get a better angle at that lovely spongy place that made her contract all around him every time. 

It didn't take long. Nell's hand moved like beating wings over her clit, sometimes even pinching it. Dudley looked down to see how their bodies came together, her auburn curls mingling with his strawberry-blond ones. "Harder, Dud!" Nell cried, and he pounded his tiring cock into her faster and further. Letting one of his own hands leave the bed, he pulled and twisted at a nipple, finally tipping Nell over the edge. She bucked and screamed and squirted and clamped down, and oi, Dudley couldn't figure out whether he was going to come again or feel the skin of his cock get rubbed off. 

When Nell had finally stopped convulsing again, Dudley lay atop her. "Hey, Nellie-belle?" he said. "Do you mind if I pull out of you now?"

The giggles that started out breathy grew to a great guffaw. "Sure you can, Duddy-wump," she wheezed, continuing to laugh as he extracted himself. Rolling over, Dudley pulled Nell against him, loving the feel of laughter running from her belly to his.

*♥*

The receptionist at the health club never wanted to sully herself with the weight room any more than she had to. She stuck her head in to convey any messages, and for as short a time as possible.

"Dudley, you better come into the office; your wife's on the phone." 

Dudley nodded, and the receptionist left. "Excuse me, Mrs Epstein. I'll be back as soon as I can. While I'm gone, why don't you finish up this set and then get on the exercycle for some cardio?" At Mrs Epstein's nod, Dudley grabbed his towel, wiped his face, and hustled to the back office. 

"Nell," Dudley said when he took up the phone. "Are you alright?" Dudley half-expected a huge tragedy: Nell had been fired, or was seriously injured, or her father had passed. Nell _never_ had called him at the gym before. 

"Dud, I'm fine, but the _weirdest_ thing happened." Dudley sighed, relieved. Nell kept talking. "I was brushing Dancer's coat – she'd rolled around in the hay again – and I don't know how, but I _came_. Just standing there!"

"Lucky bird," Dudley said fondly. "But that is rather odd. Are you quite certain you were brushing Dancer and not riding her?"

"Not this time, Dud. Not that _that_ ever really happens, anyway."

"But you're okay, though? Didn't get kicked or such?"

"No. It's a good thing circus ponies aren't skittish, though." 

"Yeah."

"Dudley?" Nell's voice was small in his ear. "D'you think it means something's wrong?" 

Dudley frowned. He was still getting used to how Nell had…Feelings. Feelings she thought needed to Be Talked About. 

"I really don't know," he said honestly. "Do you want to go to the clinic?" 

Nell paused. Her breath sounded funny, uneven. Like she might cry. Or maybe come again. "I feel so silly, though. Who on earth goes to a doctor and says, 'Help! I'm having random orgasms'? Maybe I should wait? See if it happens again?"

Dudley exhaled. _Thank God_ she's _making a decision,_ he thought. "Sounds like a good idea. And… hell, Nell. If having you-know's is the symptom, anything that's wrong… I don't know. It can't be too bad. I've had loads of odd…" he looked around before whispering, "stiffies in my life. Nothing was wrong with me; it was just part of getting to be a man." 

"You know it's not like that for women, right?" Nell's voice was flat. 

_Bollocks._ "I stuffed that up, didn't I?" 

Nell giggled a little. "Kinda. But yeah, I probably don't need to worry about it. Maybe it was just a leftover one from this morning." 

"I ought to be chuffed, then, eh?" The receptionist was glaring at him. "Oi. I need to get back to Mrs Epstein."

"Sure, honey. Thanks for listening. I mean it." 

"You're welcome. I'll see you later."

Reassured that Nell was alright, Dudley went back to the cardio room and put the conversation out of his mind.

*♥*

Nell was with child. Well, _she_ said 'preggers', but Dudley thought the term was rude. Growing babies was Something One Didn't Talk About in Little Whinging.

Unfortunately, they found themselves needing to talk about it rather a lot. Nell's pregnancy was not exactly…typical. 

"Oomph!" she would say. "The little bugger seems to think my insides are a, a…I don't know what, but she's ricocheting back and forth like she's a goddamn super-ball!" 

Nell had acted particularly smug when she thought of that comparison. But mostly she worried about losing the baby. So Dudley worried, too. 

By the third month, she wasn't allowed to ride. By the fifth, she was on modified bed rest and ordered to avoid any stress at all. 

One week of that, and Nell was stir-crazy. She'd have climbed the walls, but her doctor wouldn't permit it. 

"What am I going to _do_ for the next eighteen weeks?" she sobbed into Dudley's shoulder one night. (The 'modified bed rest' had buggered up their sex life, too.)

Dudley held her close, stroking her back. "I don't know. You ever have a quiet hobby?"

So Nell took up genealogy. She called her dad to ask for the old family bibles. She and Dudley paid for an internet service, and she went looking for her family tree. Then she went looking for Dudley's. 

"Dud, don't you know more about where your family's from? Like your parents' and grandparents' relatives?" 

Dudley didn't. He told her about Aunt Marge. "And my mum had a sister named Lily, but she and her husband died in an accident when I was really little." 

"Right. And your cousin lived with you." 

"Yeah, but I don't think he knows any more than I do. Neither of us knew our grandparents. And Mum and Dad were more interested in the here-and-now than in the past." 

Nell sighed. "Well, I've got your dad back to 1902. That's when his grandmother was born, in Leeds. If I've followed the records okay, I should be able to get pretty far back. Your mum, though… I've got her a bit further back, but then it disappears completely. Did you know her family names _all_ their girls after flowers?"

Dudley didn't, but he supposed it shouldn't be surprised, given his mum and aunt's names. 

"You don't think they'd have any records, letter or something I could look at?" Nell looked at him hopefully. 

"I don't know. Mum might. It seems like the sort of thing she'd want to hold onto because it was 'proper'." 

Nell nodded. "I really should get to know them anyway, Dud, don't you think? Since they're going to be grandparents?" 

Dudley felt a headache coming on.

*♥*

"Oh, my baby Duddlekins is having a _baby_!" Petunia had squealed into the phone when Dudley told her the news.

She had, of course, immediately invited the two of them to come for Sunday dinner. "We need to meet the happy mum," she'd gushed. "Your father will be just _thrilled_!" 

Dudley hoped that this would be the case as he helped Nell up the few steps to the door of number four, Privet Drive.

After hors d'ouvres and painfully stilted small-talk, the family progressed to the dining room for dinner. Dudley had forgotten how tasty his mother's cooking was. Or he hadn't quite forgotten, but hadn't wanted to _remember_ in those first days on his own, when most meals were beans on toast.

"This is delicious, Mrs Dursley," Nell said, adding pepper to her second helping of roast leg of lamb. "Mm, I've never roasted potatoes with the meat before. We'll have to do that, Dud." 

Dudley groaned lowly and cursed to himself. "I'll have to learn how to do that. Mum, you can give me the recipe, yeah?" 

"You can't cook, Nellie?" Vernon said, ignoring that Nell had asked him to call her "just Nell." His eyes had flown to his son's in shock. 

"I –" Nell started, but stopped when Dudley squeezed her knee. 

"Let me, please." She nodded and added another layer of pepper over the mint jelly on her lamb, So Dudley continued. "She's a fantastic cook, Dad. But I learned to do it, too, when I was living on my own, and since Nell's supposed to be resting, I'm doing most of the cooking." 

"Oh, _Dudley_!" Petunia cried, nearly bursting into tears. "Look at you, all grown up! And so considerate! Isn't he considerate, Vernon?" 

"Well, yes," grunted Vernon, still glaring in disapproval that _his_ son would cook for his wife.

Nell did, however, offer to help with the washing up. "I do want to get some girl-time with you, Mrs Dursley. And I can dry while sitting down."

"Oh no, dear. We'll use the dishwasher. Only let's do go into the kitchen to chat. We can put on the kettle while we're there." 

"C'mon, Dudders, let's have a drink and a cigar to celebrate your impending fatherhood." Vernon led Dudley into the family room. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses from the liquor cabinet and cut each of them a cigar as Dudley poured. 

"Your wife, ah, she's...not like the other girls you've dated."

"That's because I never dated, Dad. Have I ever brought a girl home before?" Dudley replied.

Vernon looked uncomfortable. 

"Dad, it's hard to get a girl to date you when you've earned a reputation as a horrid bully."

"Humph," Vernon grunted, then said, "But _you_ had the whole world to choose from, didn't you?"

Dudley's face heated up. He was about to tell his dad that he didn't marry Nell 'cos she was the only one who'd have him, but because he _loved_ her, when they heard pottery breaking in the kitchen. 

"Petunia?" Vernon shouted as the men rushed into the kitchen. 

There they saw Petunia, ashen, standing over a broken sugar bowl and staring at Nell, who was gripping her chair and heaving. 

"All right, Nell?" Dudley asked, by now recognising the signs of the baby's exercise. 

Nell nodded. "I'm alright, though it seems like this baby is pissed _off_ ," she said tensely. 

Dudley put his hand on his wife's belly, which felt unusually warm. And was that an orange _glow_ coming through Nell's blouse? Dudley left his hand there to hide it. "She – or he –" he said, glancing at his watching parents, "will calm down soon enough. You know that," he said. 

Dudley heard his mother's sharp breath just as Nell leant her head against his belly. 

"Dudley," Petunia said, her voice quiet and hard.

"Mum, whatever you want to say, please keep it until I've got my wife settled," Dudley announced, brooking no argument. He let Nell rest against him until the colour returned to her face and she was no longer biting her lip against the pain. "Shall we get you to the sofa, love?" he asked, and at Nell's nod, helped her into the family room. 

When Dudley returned to the kitchen, Petunia's lips were pursed in a way Dudley had rarely seen directed at him. It was what he called her 'I don't like it, but I shall pretend not to be fussing' expression. 

This time, though, she fussed. 

"You didn't tell us," Petunia said coldly, "that you had married a _freak_." 

"Mum!" Dudley was shocked. How could his mum say such a thing? "Her work might be _unusual >_, but calling her a freak is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Yes, about that –" Vernon started, already gearing up for to berate Dudley about his career again, but Petunia, her voice uncharacteristically strident, cut off his diatribe. 

"It's not about her _job_ , Dudley Vernon Dursley. I recognise the signs of a—a – _freak_ pregnancy. Lily's health was like that when she was carrying your cousin!" 

Dudley blanched, just a bit. "Are you sure, Mum? Only, Nell's never shown any sign of... those tendencies." 

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. I saw that, that _light_ shining out of her belly. Not as bright as your cousin's, but he always did have to show off, didn't he?"

Vernon retreated to the family room. 

"Harry didn't show off, Mum," Dudley said. "Mostly, I think, he tried to stay out of the way." Heaven knew, Dudley tried not to think of his cousin, a wizard whose parents had died when he and Dudley were still babies, too much. It shamed him to think of how shabbily he and his parents had treated Harry while he lived with them.

"Well, he certainly was _abnormal_ ," Petunia said, "and _I_ thought we'd taught you better than to spend time with his sort." 

"You know what, Mum? I'm done. Nell is a right wonderful girl. I love her, and we're going to have a wonderful baby and love it no matter what 'sort' it is. I think I'd have to marry the Queen to actually satisfy you." 

"I will not," his mother replied, have that _abnormality_ under my roof." She stared at Dudley.

"Then you won't have me, either." Dudley left his gobsmacked mother in the kitchen and returned to his wife. "Nell, love? Are you up to leaving?" he asked, trying to hide his fuming behind a facade of solicitude. 

Nell was grimacing. "I don't know, Dud. The baby was giving us quite the show while you two were in there hollerin'." 

"How much could you hear?" Dudley asked, frowning. Damn. He'd left the room so as not to upset Nell and the baby. 

Nell had reached behind her to push off the settee. "Enough. Thanks for defending my honour." She turned to Vernon. "Mr Dursley, I know this isn't the life you'd planned for Dudley, but we're pretty darn happy together." She took a deep breath. "If you can be less rude than your wife, I _would_ like for our baby to have at least one grandparent nearby." 

Vernon coughed. "I should go see to my wife," he said, and left Dudley and Nell to see themselves out. 

"I thought you said they were big on being proper?" Nell asked, eyes flashing in anger and pain.

"Normally, yes," Dudley replied, bemused by his parents' hypocrisy. "I suppose they must like to put on a good show for the neighbours, is all. They really _were_ terrible to Harry when we were growing up. So much so that, aside from learning he was alive after we left hiding, I haven't heard from him since the summer we turned eighteen." 

"Wait – you were in _hiding_?" Nell exclaimed as Dudley shut the passenger door for her. 

"Er, yes. For about a year," Dudley said as he slid into the driver's seat. "I'll tell you about it when we get back to the flat, alright?" 

So that night, snuggled together under the duvet, Dudley told Nell about Magic.

*♥*

Nell wanted to _know_ about magical pregnancies. "Your mum said your auntie had a pregnancy like mine, but what can I expect? Will our baby definitely be magical? How could this have happened?"

"I don't know, Nell!" Dudley finally erupted. "I don't know anything about magic or pregnancies or anything!"

"Call your cousin," she insisted. "He'll know." 

Dudley blew out a breath. "Even if he does, Nell, I have no idea how to find him!" 

"He's ex-directory?" Nell looked crestfallen. 

"I doubt he even has a phone, Nell," Dudley said, his head falling to his hands. "I got the sense most wizards hadn't even heard of them." 

Nell hiccoughed and wiped her eyes. "I guess we'll just have to manage, then, with the regular midwife and consultant."

"Yeah," Dudley said, but that resignation, especially from his normally energetic and persistent wife, didn't sit well with him. He silently cursed himself for not having kept in touch with Harry, or Ms Jones or Mr Diggle. Not that he would trust Dedalus Diggle's advice on family matters; the man was, he thought, strange even among wizards. But he would have been kind enough to direct Dudley and Nell to the proper doctors, or whatever magical people called them. 

He lied awake nights, trying to remember all the wizards and witches he'd met, but come up with nothing for a full week after the disastrous dinner with his parents. 

Now, he sat up in bed. "Mrs Figg," he said. 

"Mm?" inquired Nell sleepily. 

"Shh, go back to sleep," Dudley murmured, stroking her back. "I'll tell you tomorrow night, if it means anything." 

Nell snuffled and went back to sleep.

*♥*

Mrs Figg wasn't hard to find; Privet Drive wasn't very long, and they had lived in the same section of it. Ringing her took a greater effort, actually.

"Arabella Figg," she said as she answered the phone. 

"Er, hello, Mrs Figg. This is Dudley Dursley. I don't know whether you remember me, but..." 

"'Course I remember you, young Dudley," she said. "You tormented young Harry 'til you got yourself attacked by Dementors. You trampled my garden, more than once. Yet you were polite enough to Hestia and Dedalus, so I suppose you might have grown up a bit." 

"Ah, yes. That would be me." Dudley winced into the telephone. "I have grown, I hope. I was wondering whether you could help me find someone to talk to about", he paused, lowering his voice, "magical childbearing."

Mrs Figg snorted. "And why would _that_ interest you?" she asked. "Found yourself a nice witch?" 

"No, but I _did_ get married, and my wife is having real difficulties with her pregnancy." 

"And why do you think it might be magical?" Mrs Figg asked, softening her voice to the sort of unobtrusive cadence Dudley remembered her having. 

"Well, er... The baby's rather active. And when she's most active, Nell's stomach rather...glows." 

Dudley half-expected Mrs Figg to call him a nutter, so he was relieved when instead she said, "Oh that does sound like a magical foetus in a Muggle mother. Does your young woman know it might be magical?" 

Dudley nodded, then realised Mrs Figg would not be able to see him through the telephone. "Yes, Mrs Figg," he said even as he flushed in private embarrassment. "My mum said her sister's pregnancy was like that." 

Mrs Figg sniffed. "I bet Petunia was right peeved that there's more magic in her family." 

"Yeah," said Dudley. "She kicked us out of her house." 

Mrs Figg gasped. "I'm so sorry, young Dudley. Your mother never had her priorities in order, but this is beyond even what I'd imagine." 

Dudley snorted. "Not beyond mine, unfortunately. So do you know a wizard doctor or someone who could look at her? Nell, I mean. We're not convinced her obstetrician and midwife know how to treat her proper." 

Mrs Figg paused. "I'll need to make some calls," she finally said, "but I believe the person you need – and she's a lovely girl as well as a great mid-witch – is Luna Lovegood. I've just got to check on that and on whether she's available to take your case. Now, is Nell purely Muggle?"

"So far as we know," Dudley answered, wondering where this line of questioning would go. "And you've never shown any signs of it, either?"

"Not so far as _I_ know." Though he'd had his share of run-ins with magic, sure enough. The pig's tail on his rear, his tongue's expansion, that horribly demented thing....Dudley shivered. 

"Right. Miss Lovegood would need to know that." 

"Alright. Is that all?" Dudley asked.

"Yes. I'll give you a ring after I've spoken to Luna," Mrs Figg said. 

"Wait – What is her name, again?" Dudley asked, reaching for a biro; he realised Nell would want that sort of detail. 

Mrs Figg sighed. "Luna Lovegood. She's a medi-witch who specialises in magical births, particularly of children who are of mixed – that's magical and Muggle – heritage or are to be Muggle-born." 

"Luna Lovegood?" Dudley repeated. "You're having me on. That can't be her name, can it?" 

"It's what her parents named her," huffed Mrs Figg impatiently. 

Dudley cradled the receiver on his shoulder as he wrote down the information. "Thank you, Mrs Figg," he said. "Really, Nell and I do appreciate it." 

Mrs Figg's voice softened again. "Of course," she said. "Babies should never suffer because their fathers are rude."

*♥*

Nell and Luna got on like a house on fire. Luna enjoyed Nell's stories about ponies and the unique people she'd met while in the circus; Nell loved Luna's quirky dress and sense of humour.

Nell _also_ loved that Luna ordered her out of bed. 

"The baby will be calmer when you start exercising more," Luna explained. "It's the best you can do to channel the magic if you don't have a wand."

"Wait. Could I actually _do_ magic right now?" Nell puffed whilst doing some very jiggly jumping jacks. 

Luna frowned. "Well, it's possible you could channel your baby's magical energy and use it whilst you are carrying her," Luna had from the start trusted Nell's intuition about the baby's gender, "but that might drain too much magical energy from the child, and devastate you when you could no longer access it, besides. I'd definitely recommend against using it unless you have a life-threatening situation." Luna stepped behind Nell to rub her shoulders and neck. "How are these areas doing? I know that we always talk about the lower back, but when boobs inflate, all the upper muscles feel it." 

Nell sighed and dipped her head forward. "So good, Luna. Can you teach Dud to do that?"

"Of course," said Luna, "and let's get out into the woods and find some herbs to make a poultice for your aches." 

When Luna met with both members of the couple, her questions were usually direct. "Dudley, are you certain your family hasn't any magic outside of Harry and Lily?" 

"Mum never, ever mentioned it," Dudley said, frustrated. "Though that might just be because she hates it so much. Her dad and mum were ever so pleased that Aunt Lily was a witch, I think. At least that's something she's grumbled on about." 

"Hmmmm...." Luna murmured, a far-away look in her eyes. "And what have your experiences with magic been like, Dudley?"

Dudley told her about the pig's tail, about the horrid candy, about seeing Harry appear up on the roof of his schoolhouse, and finally about the terrible cold creature that tried to eat his soul.

"A Dementor?" Luna inquired, looking quite interested. "Tell me, how well could you see the Dementor?" 

Dudley sighed, nearly whimpering. He _hated_ thinking back to that night. "Not well at all," he said, "though you must understand I was rather distracted by the visions of all the horrible things my life had ever seen. But I think it was just a fog – a mist swirling toward me down the alleyway, perhaps. I knew it was approaching, as I felt colder and colder and colder..." Dudley was shivering as he recounted the event. "And I felt it push around me as the fog closed in, a bit of the fog opening like a mouth as it came to my face." 

"Hush, Dudley." Luna sounded concerned. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a chocolate bar. "Eat this, it'll help. And Nell, would you put on some tea?" Nell nodded and left the family room. "So, it seems that you _could_ see the Dementor, if only a small bit. That's important to know; it suggests that you, and probably your mum, are more Squibs than Muggles." 

"Squibs?" Dudley asked. Luna was right; the chocolate was helping him warm up again.

"Non-magical members of magical families, Squibs usually are. But physiologically and genetically, they happen to be magical persons whose magic level is so low as to be unusable." 

Dudley wasn't sure quite what to think of that.

"Most likely it means that you have wizarding ancestry," Luna continued blithely, "but so far back that the memory has been lost."

"Huh, that would make sense," Nell said as she brought in mugs of tea on a tray with milk and sugar. "I haven't been able to find any record of Dudley's mum's family earlier than 1880 or so."

Luna added, "Of course. There would be no Muggle records of a Squib or the Squib's ancestry. Do you remember the name of that last person you found?" 

"Um," Nell bit her lip. "I think it's Daisy Parkinson." 

Luna nodded sharply. "I'll look into it, ask around. If you're interested, that is." 

"Oh yes," Nell said. "I'm fascinated by family histories these days!"

Dudley's head was spinning. "It comes from my mum?" he asked weakly. His mum. The one who had kicked him out of her house. The one who had been so horrid to his cousin. 

"Do you know Harry Potter?" he asked, causing Luna and Nell to look up in surprise. 

"Oh, yes!" Luna beamed. "He's one of my oldest and dearest friends, you see. He never did treat me like I was loony." 

Dudley nodded. "Could you... Could you tell him I'd like to talk to him? I mean, I'd understand If he doesn't, but I... We don't know anything about raising magical babies. And...I'd like to apologise. And thank him," he finished.

*♥*

"I know just what to name our daughter!" Nell exclaimed as soon as Dudley had walked through the door from his work at the circus. He was now caring for and leading the horses for Nell's 'one-year replacement'.

For her part, Nell was in the 'nesting' phase of her pregnancy, and the lack of a name for their coming offspring had been driving her mad. 

"What, love?" Dudley responded, ready for anything. Hell, she had suggested they name the child 'HORSE' a few weeks prior. 

" _Cornus Florida_ ," Nell announced. "American dogwood." 

"You're taking the piss," said Dudley. "How on earth did you come up with that?" 

"We-ell," Nell said, her face falling a little. "When I was growing up, I used to watch this puppet show on TV, and there was a character, a duck-billed platypus called _Ornithorhynchus Anatinus_. And they called her 'Anna' for short. So I thought we could call our baby Flo. Or maybe 'Ida'."

Dudley took a deep breath. "But why dogwood, of all things?" he asked. He did know that Nell had been hell-bent (as she said) on naming their child, should it be a girl, after a bloody flower, but the American dogwood? He wouldn't even recognise it if it were growing in his own garden! 

"Because it's a tree _and_ a flower!" Nell said proudly. "Like our baby will be Muggle _and_ magical!" 

Dudley couldn't deny that logic.

"Please, can we just call her Ida?" he asked in resignation.

*♥*

Three weeks later, and Dudley was still in awe of what he had witnessed in the birth of his daughter. He wasn't sure whether it was the magic that made it so incredible or just what some called 'The Miracle of Life,' but he could no more deny that something seemingly impossible had taken place than he could deny that his mum had acted like a twat.

He tried not to think of his mum too much, though, especially when he was holding little Ida. Ida had demonstrated a distinct dislike for her purported grandmother, or at least thought or speech of her. 

Right now, Dudley was rocking Ida back to sleep before Harry came by with his two boys, one of whom was not much older than Ida. Dudley cringed when he thought of how hard it would be to grow up with the name 'Albus Severus', but then, he _had_ allowed his daughter to be named 'Cornus Florida', so he supposed he wasn't one to criticise. 

Nell and Harry's wife planned to do some shopping together whilst the two cousins 'caught up'. Due to Ida's magical status and Dudley's status as Cousin of the Man Who Lived Twice, the Ministry of Magic had connected the Fenwick-Dursley family to the Floo Network. Nell and Ginny, who was also good friends with Luna Lovegood (the Wizarding world seemed even smaller than Little Whinging had done), had taken to chatting regularly about baby-care. 

Truth be told, Nell looked like she could be from Ginny Weasley's family, anyway. She would fit in fine during their shopping trip for magical baby toys.

Dudley and Harry, though, had only had a few stilted conversations through the Floo. Seeing Harry's – or anyone else's – head in the fire rather disconcerted Dudley. Besides, he would feel much better about their relationship if he could show some hospitality to his cousin. 

Of course, just as Ida started making the 'finally-asleep' snuffles, the bell-push sounded. Said baby's blue eyes flew open, and she drew in a shuddering breath as if to commence wailing. 

"Shh, shh," Dudley murmured, rubbing Ida's back with his fist as he stood and moved toward the front door. "It's only Daddy's cousin and his babies."

Ida seemed to take interest. Great. No nap today then, though if that were the case perhaps he and Nell would be able to sleep more than four hours in a row.

At the door, of course, were Harry and Ginny, each carrying a small being. Harry also carried a small sack; Dudley assumed it must be some sort of magical changing bag. 

"Hi," Dudley said, rather shyly, as he opened the door. "Thanks for coming over. It's good to see you again, Harry, and to meet the rest of your family.

The older child, whom Ginny was holding, squirmed, reaching out toward Ida. "Baby!" he exclaimed. "A-butt?" 

"No, sweetie, this is a different baby. This baby's name is _Ida_ ," Ginny told him. 

"Ah-da!" James shouted, reaching again. 

Ida turned away from Dudley's chest to look at the strange creature calling her name. Dudley turned her a bit so she could see. 

"Ah-da!" James squealed again, twisting, squirming, and reaching so much that Ginny gave up and set him on the floor in the entryway. 

James zoomed on hands and knees toward the stairs, down which Nell was walking. 

"Hello, cutie-pie! You must be James! I'm your Auntie Nell," she said. 

"Nuhw?" James said, reaching up. 

Nell collected the toddler and sat him on her hip. "Yep! Nell. Hi, you guys! Welcome to our happy home! Why are y'all just standing in the hallway?" 

The three other adults laughed. 

"Shall I show you to the family room, then?" Dudley asked. 

"That would be fine, Dudley," Harry responded, his eyes sparkling with mirth. They took the children into the family room, where Dudley and Nell had set up a blanket as a 'safe area' for Nell. The fathers laid both babies on it, next to one another. 

It was a 'safe area' until James discovered it, at least. 

"Remember, James," Ginny said, "gentle touch with babies."

"Den-too," James said seriously and nodded. 

Nell nudged Ginny. "Let's get out of here before those two start expecting us to mother, right?" 

Ginny laughed. "Definitely."

"Dudley, don't call unless the house is on fire or the baby is in the hospital. We're taking this afternoon _off_ ," said Nell, smirking. 

"And Harry, _please_ don't allow James any biscuits. He's had more than enough sugar at his Nan's today." 

"Yes, Gin," Harry said, and, kissing their husbands, the women were off. 

"Can you imagine, both of us hen-pecked?" Dudley said, chuckling and shaking his head. "It's like some alternate universe, isn't it?" 

"Quite," said Harry. "So... How've you been, Dudley? Er, Luna said you weren't talking to your parents much." 

Dudley sighed. "Mum got an unbelievable strop on the day she and dad met Nell. I'd not been speaking to them – they didn't like the idea of me living in Brighton – but Nell wanted to meet the grandparents of the baby she was carrying." He sighed. "I mean, it's good that we went, because Nell was having such a hard time of it, with the magical pregnancy, and Mum's the one who recognised it for what it was, but... Yeah. She called Nell a freak and accused me of making abnormal babies. Long story short, I told her to stuff it." 

"And Mrs Figg got you in touch with Luna?" 

"Yes, thank God," Dudley said. "I don't know if either of us would have survived Nell trying to do more bed rest. Between her typical energy and the energy of _that_ one," he indicated the carrot-topped infant, who was currently investigating her dark-haired counterpart, "the bedroom might well have exploded!" 

Harry laughed. "I know what you mean. Gin was terribly energetic during each of her pregnancies. Something about the extra magic...."

"So is it certain, then? Do I have a witch for a daughter?" 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "It makes it rather likely, but just because one _has_ magic doesn't mean one can necessarily _use_ it. Look at you and your mum," he added. 

Dudley nodded. "How do you know, then?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "I hear that most children first show their magical abilities between a few weeks and four years old," he said. "So we've likely got a while to wait." 

The two of them continued to watch their children, particularly the way James was trying to get the attention of the younger babes. 

"Jamie!" Harry said. "Would you like some blocks?" 

James got back on all fours and crawled like a speed demon to his father, who was holding out a netted sack of plushie blocks. "Box!" he said, and dumped the blocks where he was. 

"Hey, Harry?" Dudley said tentatively. 

"Yeah?"

"Er, I'm sorry for being such a berk when we were kids." 

Harry looked at him, a small smile playing across his lips. "I know, Big D," he said. "And I'm sorry I didn't check on you after the War was over. I was a bit distracted with it all. But I shouldn't have done – I ought have let you and your parents know at least that I had survived." 

"Eh, Hestia and Dedalus let us know, when they told us we could go home," Dudley said. 

"Still..." Harry was looking at his hands.

Dudley snorted. "Look, Harry. We weren't exactly the best family, right? It was nice enough for you to get us a safe-house to be getting on with." 

"But you were... Trying to make amends then, weren't you?" 

Dudley shrugged. "A bit late, though. Anyway, yeah. I'm sorry. And thanks for keeping us safe." 

"You're welcome," Harry said, and then turned back to the children. "Way to go, James!" he said, seeing how James had stacked three blue blocks atop one another. "What colour are those?" 

"Boo!" said James happily. 

Then he pulled himself up, holding onto Harry's leg to steady himself. Letting go, he took two steps and sat down. As he did so, he waved his arms for balance and knocked over the tower he'd built. His lower lip began to tremble. 

Just as the first whimper began to escape James' lips, though, something strange happened. 

Ida reached toward the blocks, toward her upset cousin. Looking at the blocks, her hand splayed toward them, she looked to be concentrating.

The blocks re-stacked themselves, and James' eyes grew wide. "Daddy?" he asked. 

"It looks like your baby cousin helped you, Jamie. Can you say thank-you?" 

"Tankee," said James, still looking impressed. 

Ida, for her part, had turned back to Albus. 

"Huh," said Dudley. "Well, Nell will be pleased about that." 

Harry frowned at Dudley. "Yeah. Congratulations."

"You thought it'd be one of yours first, eh?" 

"Right. But they've got time." 

"They sure do," Dudley answered. 

He thought of Ginny and Nell, out shopping for who-knew-what. He looked at his cousin amiably sharing the sofa with him, their children playing on the rug. 

Dudley Dursley was not as _queerly_ normal as his parents. But for all the oddities of his life now, he was normal enough.

~*♥ **THE END** ♥*~


End file.
